Four cords and counting

Just about any other Sunday morning would operate practically by schedule: morning run, shower, eat, and suddenly it is noon if not later.  

Today is different.  No running.  By noon I had baked zucchini bread, rearranged the kitchen cupboards, cleaned the cooking stove and counter, packaged items that need to be mailed, sorted the mail pile, persuaded Nathan to push through multiple loads of laundry and wash the dishes, took out the trash, went on a ball-throwing walk with Luna, and Nathan and I helped our neighbors move a desk and bed up a narrow stairway to the second story loft.  Now that it is three in the afternoon I can add catching up with PT reading and PT nerdy blogs and baking bread.  Upcoming is laundry folding, bathroom cleaning, and the beginnings of packing before making dinner.  The day goes much differently when in the last week of a race taper.

Five days and counting until Bear, ready or not.

In other news, after going 2:2 for wood cutting injuries we have broken the pattern of doom with three non-injurious weekends of wood collection.  Last weekend we managed to fill a work truck with extended sidewalls, meaning just over two cords. 

Our garage had room for the Prius with the ability to open car doors.

Don't be fooled by the panorama's loss of perspective.

Yesterday we had a normal truck with a trailer and managed to collect just over one cord, and it was all pretty well dry and light.  Now all rows stack to the ceiling, and a half cord of larger logs sit outside.  We are certain that we now have an amount matching last year's entire usage, and we are looking forward to collecting at least four more cords through October. 

Luna dogdog.  Wood surfing, airing it out on Del Norte Peak.

Seeing our increasing haul makes us feel better since the weather began to shift a week and a half ago.  Highs are still in the 70s, and lows are now 35-40 degrees.  Last weekend's long run started at 28 degrees as the sun started to rise.  Mornings and evenings have the crisp twinge of autumn.  The kittehs have reinstated their winter lap-hogging routine.  And the crazies started coming out of the woodwork a month ago, because apparently some locals are sensitive to the five degree lower temperature at night and that's why their bodies stop working and they routinely end up in the hospital.  I think back to our ethics and psychosocial classes in graduate school and shake my head at the simplicity of our topics.  In an area like the Valley our hospital staff encounters major ethical situations at least once per week.  In that regard I am looking forward to Bear, as those six days off - including the race - promise to be easier than many work days.

48 hours and counting

This week, my Friday is truly a Friday.  I normally Saturdays, though this Saturday marks the start of our VAAAAAACAAAAATION.

I'm just a wee bit excited.  It's all I have thought about for the last week.  I wrote out my packing list last weekend.  I've kept a calendar of the weather outlook and have updated each day.  At work I find myself snapping back to reality to find a long pause from whoever was talking to me, since I zoned out and went to a mental pre-vacation happy place instead of listening to them complain.  I probably look much like those with temporal seizures, fading out and fading back in.  (I apologize and ask them to repeat, and then have to fight the urge to zone out again.  Means I'm doing a lot of gratuitous nodding to try and stay with what they are saying.)

Tonight:
  - haircut
  - last minute shopping

Tomorrow/Friday:
  - try to not annoy every patient by bouncing up and down continuously
  - pack!

Saturday:
  - 7:00am bus to Boston
  - lunch with Nathan's friend
  - marathon expo

Sunday:
  - walk, relax, bed early

Monday:
  - marathon 10:00am
  - lunch at Friendly Toast (hopefully)
  - fly to Denver

Tuesday to Friday:
  - who knows.  We've been so stressed out that we don't have a strong itinerary.  One day at a time.

Saturday:
  - flat trail race in Denver area (I'll probably do the short race and run it really slow, head always turned toward the mountainous back drop like a plant towards the sun)

Sunday:
  - slow morning as we wish
  - back to NYC

Monday:
  - go to new Jackie Robinson film
  - pretend we are still on vacation
  - snuggle with kittens

I don't care what weather we encounter.  I'll take anything and everything, because it will be some place else instead of New York. 

Off to try and focus on the remaining two work days....

Longest taper ever.

Numerous marathons throughout November and December opened their doors to those left race-less by NYC's cancellation.  I am one of 3000 lucky enough to be selected via lottery for the Philadelphia Marathon this coming Sunday. 

NYC's cancellation was not that big of a loss to me since my big race for the year was Virgil Crest in September, plus that was by far the more appropriate decision under the circumstances.  But I realized that after a taper period I will be too antsy to allow myself a genuine rest period unless I have a race to exhaust myself.  I may have knees twice my age nicknamed the Old Ladies.  I may be early to bed and early to rise in total opposition to all others my age, and I may scoff at going out if it means leaving home after 7pm.   But, for better or worse, I am still the annoyingly energized puppy that needs lengthy, daily constructed play time so that I don't chew up an entire closet's worth of shoes.  Or in Sadie's case, yoga blocks and shoe laces and foam rollers and the box spring and power cords and.... 

So be it.  Philly, here I come.  Who knows what result will come from the double-taper, but it will let me finally take my off season before the slow build up Boston.

The curse is broken

For the last couple years, foul weather capable of temporarily incapacitating a city has only struck when I was traveling to/from the midwest.  There was the blizzard of December 2010, the east coast earthquake that shook the Financial District in August 2011, hurricane Irene one week later in August 2011.... 

I've credited Nathan with breaking the curse, as the two times I've flown to Missouri have been without incident since he accompanied me to Sam and Kristin's wedding a year ago. 

The difference?  Now I get to experience the natural disasters myself.

Cue hurricane Sandy. 

And oddly enough this one has decent timing for me, all things considered.  Hurricane Irene blew through on the day of the Bronx Half.  The Bronx was my favorite, since it ends up slightly smaller in size and with the most hills of all the borough half marathons.  I spent much more time than necessary choosing between a mid-August visit to KC and a return for the Bronx Half, or a late-August visit and the TNF KC 50k.  I ended up choosing the 50k, and I got lucky.

Since I'm running the marathon again this year, I've been eyeing the storm (ba dum dum... dumb...) so that if it hits NYC it will hit mid-week rather than marathon Sunday (November 4th).  So far so good.  At the same time, it does not interfere with my last long run, nor does it interfere with my last shake-out run (i.e. hill repeats) prior to the big day.  It also should not interfere with the expo that starts on Thursday.

The biggest difference is that I work at a hospital.  Hospitals do not close during such pesky things as hurricanes.  We are given extra time to get to work, but we are still expected to show up to work on Tuesday.  I am also still in my probationary period, so I do not get days off.  I usually walk the 1.2 miles to work, which equates to 2 subway stops.  The subways will likely shut down Sunday night at 7pm.  Yet another time I wish I had invested in waterproof pants, the main piece of gear I always find theoretically practical yet talk myself out of, only to tsk tsk myself at times like these.

On the plus side, I may be able to get some video (carefully, of course!) of the hurricane as I trudge through it.  Wouldn't that be cool?  Me getting side swept by all the piles of garbage that so decorate this city while crawling at 0.5mph towards the big NewYork-Presbyterian banner declaring "Great things happen here." 


Great may be a relative term in this case.  And no patient gets to argue against "I trudged a mile through a hurricane just so that you could walk today.  Now move!"   

And, since the route to NYP dips down and reascends regardless of your chosen route, I will have the pleasure of telling my future grandchildren that it was uphill both ways.  Hazzah.

The plan

The plan:

7:30am-3:30pm:  Work.  Doing my damndest, yes damndest, to get out on time.

3:30pm-4:30pm:  Walk from work over to Fort Lee, NJ to pick up rental car.  (Waaaaay cheaper than Manhattan, folks!)

4:30pm-5:00pm:  Wait in line at rental car place.

5:00pm-9:00pm:  Drive to Cortland, NY.  Crossing fingers for no horizontal toll both traverses.

9:00pm:  Check into hotel

9:15pm:  Dinner, roll left butt and thigh on tennis ball, lay out stuff for tomorrow.  Maaaaybe shower.

10:30pm:  Sleep.  I hope...

3:30am:  Wake.  Coffee, food, dress, repack stuff.

4:30am:  Leave for Hope Lake Park.

5:00am:  Check in, get bib, apply copious amounts of Aquafore, use bathroom.

5:40am:  Get a little nervous.  Apply more copious amounts of Aquafore, eek out a last pre-performance pee.

6:00am-tba:  Run, hike, eat, run, hike, eat, run, hike, eat.  Virgin Crest 50 miler.  Hoping to finish in by 11 hours.

1-2 hours later:  Try to not cramp or fall asleep while driving the hour to mother-in-law's house.

Another 1-2 hours later:   Stumble into mother-in-law's house, try not to fall on one of a dozen possible cats, attempt to at least hit the couch if not a bed.  Sleeeeep.

And yet, knowing that ultras go however they choose regardless of careful planning means that I am excitedly awaiting tomorrow though not worried.  It'll be however it is.  What I am more worried about is the week after, wherein I transition from a Mon-Fri schedule to a Tue-Sat schedule.  I'll become the new Saturday point person.  There will be at least one other on that first Saturday to help me, but the whole setup process is different, and I'll be in charge of organizing all the weekend therapists who more often than not are from other areas of the hospital (such as outpatient - very, very different).

So apparently becoming the Saturday point person is scarier than running 50 miles with a cumulative 10,000ft of elevation gain.  Perspective is an interesting thing, isn't it?

Countdown to Bear Mtn has begun

For all of you watching the Derby tomorrow, don't forget to send positive vibes my way as well.  Race starts at 5:00 a.m. local time, and I'm guessing a 10+ hour total time to complete.  Apparently there is an Android and iPhone app available from Sportstats, which will report my time over the few on course check points and over the finish.  Not nearly as techy and accessible as the NYC Marathon, but most trail races (even those sponsored by TNF) are much, much smaller than such road races.

Picked up my bib and race swag yesterday.  I also gave them my two drop bags -- that is what made me a bit nervous.  The bag set at mile 27.7 has an extra set of clothes including capri running pants and an older pair of backup shoes in case chafing becomes enough of an issue, two Clif Mojo bars, and two Clif gels with lots of caffeine (meant to supplement the gels available in the race for an extra oomph of mentation support).  The bag for mile 40.3 has the same Mojo and gels plus some GU chews, extra Body Glide, and sport tape.  Did everything go to the mileage point at which I'll need it??  Did I remember everything?  Oh boy oh boy oh boy *bounce*bounce*bounce*  Quick, hand me a banjo (Sam's suggested distraction method)!

Today in Harriman State Park is rain, high of 78, low tonight of 58.  Tomorrow is a mere 20% chance of rain (meaning likely sunny skies), high of 70.  Could be worse.  Think soothing thoughts.  Banjos.  Kittehs behaving themselves.  Worse race parameters (i.e. 100-mile races).  The luxury of fun reading.

The kit (though I forgot the water bottle):

Apparently I run for team Blue Mismatch.  Hoping to get enough dirt/mud/salty sweat on me to make my unintentional color scheme a little less evident.  Or perhaps the winced look on my face will accomplish the same thing.

T-minus 22 hours 16 minutes....

If only my confidence matched the complement

Joint Commissions is gone.  We can now breath again at work.

I received an email from my mom (love you!) today who, as one might expect, gives me much more credit than I deserve:

"So the big Bear Mountain looms next week.  You've done this before so I'd think it would be a calm anticipation.  But, you've done this before and know exactly what you're getting into, so I guess it's an antsy anticipation!"

I read this just after getting home from my long run in which my mind was in full ohmyohmyohmy what-have-I-got-myself-into?!?! mode.  It is SOOOOOO not a calm ancitipation.  Hah!  It is the hurry up and wait version of Joint Commissions, only this time all I have is myself to exorcise the demons. 

I remember from my first ultra (Bear Mtn last year) being consciously aware of the invisible line that, when crossed, meant I was then heading into mileage territory never before experienced.  At that point it meant I had crossed 26 miles and had another five or so to go.  Five is a relatively calm number.  What is five more when you have already done five times as much? 

This year, I will cross that invisible line at mile 31.  Remaining, for my *ahem* pleasure, will be another 20 miles.  Twenty.  TWENTY MORE!  The statement is no longer calming -- what is 20 more miles when you have already done 1.5 as much?  

If you just shook your head in amazement at the executive functioning "skills" that got me into this situation then, well, I second your sentiments.  If you nearly wet yourself out of fear for me, I third your sentiments.  

Today I was testing what carrying my hydration bag sans-bladder for the purpose of gear (Clif Mojo bars, extra socks, Aquafore, head lamp, etc) since the aid stations are just close enough to use a bottle.  I ran in slightly more clothes than I normally would have so as to better prep for what may be 60 degrees or may be 75 degrees.  (Weather.com: figure it out!)  I was breaking in a new pair of shoes (same as two previous pairs) so they'd be good to go.  All the while my mind had a fully schizophrenic time with itself.  The calm, planning, rational part of me said: This feels okay, no problems with anything, this could work for another 8 hours.  The cynical part of me said: What, are you crazy?! Of COURSE it'll blow up by mile 40.  EVERYTHING will chafe during a 10+ hour day.  Of COURSE the bag will get uncomfortable despite carrying less of a load.  Of COURSE you won't want the extra pair of shoes from your drop bag until you are already beyond that aid station. 


I had to stop the mental clamor often.  The mediator: Just remember: eat, drink, pick up your feet, just keep moving.  I'm not so sure that either voice was convinced.

Thankfully, this year I have kittehs to distract me throughout the week.  Merus is being followed by the vet for long-standing gingivitis she acquired before I adopted them, and Sadie was due for a check up.  After the initial rundown with the tech, this is what ensued while waiting for the Dr. O:

Sadie went up and down of her own accord, happy to explore and happy to return for more attention.  She made everyone swoon in her usual Little Princess of Wormness ways.  Merus went up to follow Sadie, remained hunkered in a tightly tucked ball throughout Sadie's examination, gave an occasional meow to remind us she was there and not happy about knowing what was to come.  Merus came down via the vet tech, claws and arms splayed.  I swear her tail sprouted its own paw to hang on for dear life.  They both survived, including the rides on the subway. 

Now what to do -- start my next book?  Clean?  Ideate an itinerary for the week my family visits NYC for graduation?  Attempt to plan and coordinate my gear and plan A/B/C/D... for a race bigger than my know-how (see above)?  Study another section of my licensure review book (what I probably should be doing)?  Research intervention ideas or background info on a few patients that are more difficult (another more acceptable choice)?  Eat some Nutella?  Nap with the kittehs? 

Manic and anxious apply here.

I am now officially stalking next weekend's weather.  Yesterday weather.com labelled rain for 5/2 through 5/4.  Current predictions place 60% chance of rain on 5/3 followed by sun and temps in the low 70s for 5/4 and 5/5.  Pretty sure this will change every day until Bear Mtn gets here. 

I also received my first pre-race info email from TNF while at work yesterday.  The countdown has snuck up on me.  Trying not to be neeeervooooous...!

In the mean time, The Joint Commission (aka Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations) is at my hospital for its tri-yearly assessment.  You know you are due for a visit, and you may know what window of time may be expected (i.e. we knew it would be some time between March and May of this year), but they show up on whatever day they want to show.  Means as of 7:30 Monday morning e-ver-y-one is in a constant state of alert and panic.  You may normally take pride in your performance of x, y and z correctly, safely, sanitariliy (pretty sure I just invented a new word there).  Guess what -- the real way to do things is via x1, x2, x3, x4, x5, x6, x7... ad nauseum, and we haven't even moved on to the y factors yet.  We won't even get to z for another two days. 

Total.  Sheer.  Panic. 

Okay, so panic may be a bit of an overstatement.  But manic applies, as does anxiety and wishing to be elsewhere.  One of the aides happened to have this whole week booked for vacation.  He gets to miss all the craziness.  I envy his unknowingly timeliness. 

Meanwhile, I had to give a literature review presentation yesterday to the brain injury rehab staff during lunch.  I was more anxious about Joint Commission than about the dang presentation, although the craziness of the week meant my memory and concentration were a bit sparse.  Not that it mattered.  The presentation went like this:

me:  "Constraint-induced movement therapy has lots of research supporting its use for chronic stroke, but for acute stroke and acute rehab its efficacy and, if so, meaningful parameters are up for debate.  In this first systematic review by Nijland in 2011..." *whoomp* the office door flies open.

floor manager: "Sorry to interrupt, they will be on this floor in 5 minutes.  Mandy, what do you think of Mr. So-and-so A as a potential patient to trace?"

Mandy: "Well..."

[insert 2 minutes of logistics]

floor manager: "Okaygreatthanks.  Sorrytointerrupt."  *whoomp* door flies shut.

me:  "Soo... does anyone remember where I left off?"  *laughter*  "Oh right.  So this article looked at the only randomized control trials that..."  *beep*beep*beep* Mandy's Vocera (i.e. fancy walkie talkie) goes off.

floor manager: "What about Mr. So-and-so B?  Were there any problems with him?  What about blahblahblahblah for Mr. So-and-so A?"

Mandy: "Well, either would be fine, but..."

[insert 2 minutes of logistics]

office manager: "Okaythanksbye."

me:  "So, um..."

Granted I didn't have as much time to prepare as I'd have preferred, but the commotion from Joint Commission did not help my flow.  So it goes.  At least it is done.  Looking forward to next week when Joint Commission is finally gone and things return to normal.  Just in time to get nervous about the race....

Headed to CT

Today marks the end of my 4th week of my final affiliation -- meaning this coming Wednesday I'll hit half way.  Time is flying out the window.  To do: fill out my midterm, put together a literature review presentation (topic tba), process paperwork for graduation, apply for the licensure exam.  My parents have confirmed their flight and hotel for graduation.  It'll be their first time visiting NYC.  I'm super excited to show them where I've spent the last ~7 years.

But all that will wait until after this weekend.  Tomorrow is the Traprock 50k, my test run for the big dance in May (Bear Mtn of insane mileage).  Full honesty -- I get a little nervous about how last year's big dance has become this year's "prep" race.  What did I get myself into?!?  I'll find out in the coming weeks. 

The nice thing about trail races is the steeper inclines and rockier surface can necessitate lots of hiking, so you are not running 100% of the time.  Makes for a longer day, but not as all-out-until-you-vomit like road races.  Plus being in the woods is calming for me.  But don't get me wrong -- my heart usually is beating out of my chest for the entire week before a big race, regardless of what it is.  Lots of pausing for a deep breath!  Whew.  At least having so many patients requiring maximum assist for transfers and other therapeutic activities supplies distractions for 9 hours a day. 

We're leaving straight after work tonight.  Yahoo!

Count down to tomorrow

Picture me jumping around like a big nerd.  Yes, that is my normal.  Big deal.  Now amp it up to the third power.  Me on race day eve!  I think I've even managed to exhaust the kittehs.

*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*

Check my previous spectator post for links to following racers online or on your smart phone.  I think the apps are free unless you want the fancy version.  Skip the SMS text thing.  Both Nathan and I start in the first wave at 9:40 a.m.

Me: bib #12503, orange, wave #1.
Nathan: bib #10343, blue, wave #1.

The kit: white visor, light blue cap sleeve, black shorts, white calf sleeves, silver and blue shoes.  Black arm warmers will get removed once am warmed up.

Marshall Ulrich was at the expo yesterday in his own tiny booth off to the side.  He was plugging his book about his race across the US (San Fransisco to NYC). Apparently he will be at the half way point.  I would LOVE to get a high five from him.

Also, Michael Wardian will be in the elite crowd.  If you remember the results from the TNF Kansas City 50k, he's the one who swamped everyone even starting a half hour after the rest of the field.  He was easily cruising at twice my speed when he sailed past me. 

Big pre-race thanks to Laura (schoolmate, a.k.a. my Subconscious) for planting yourself along the course with some extra gels and N's allergy backup.  Same thanks to John for offering your place for bag storage and post-race meetup so that we don't have to mess with the super chaotic bag drop.

Now back to paper writing.  Deadlines are not sympathetic towards marathons....

NYC Marathon spectatorship

One week from tomorrow!  I can barely contain myself.  

I've had more people say they'll come support me than I know what to do with.  I'm not used to it.  Only twice have I had supporters in the crowd since high school -- Nathan at miles 5 and 13 of the NYC 1/2 Marathon last March, and my family at mile 28 of the TNF KC 50k last August.  But my history of spectators is a little odd.  You'd think with a dance background I'd be used to it.  For whatever reason I was the high school kid with paranoia at being watched.  I was okay with my parents/family coming to watch, but I didn't want to know where they were sitting.  Apparently I've been this way since toddlerhood when I'd stop dancing like a maniac to Fraggle Rock the moment I realized my mom was watching.  I have a rather tenacious superego, so maybe it was too much to have others watching at the same time.  I also know that during high school I enjoyed running track but became extremely tired with the pressure of competition.  

Gladly, recreational running is completely different.  I am no longer paranoid, and my running is dictated by the "old ladies."  Yet I'm still not used to people wanting to camp out for my sake.  So when school friends ask me where they should post themselves, I get a little stumped.  

Thus, I've collected info from and added my own thoughts related to the NYRR website's Spectator Guide.  Most friends of mine live in Brooklyn, which is the first third or so of the race.  Typically, the halfway point (mile 13.1) is when a runner can start to predict what may or may not unravel their race, and mile 20 starts the epic, and painful, final push.  I usually watch from mile 21 just on the Harlem side of the 138th St. bridge from the Bronx, partly for the convenience, but partly because that's when the elite race becomes interesting.

This map is the official NYRR course map, which includes all mileage markers and nearby subway stop info.  For a downloadable/printable PDF version of it, go to the course info page, then look on the right beneath the photo.

You can follow runners and hopefully better predict when they'll land at various mile markers with a smartphone/iPhone using the Mobile Spectator App ($2.99 from iTunes App Store or Android Market, available October 28).  Follow by computer using TrackMyRunners, available race day without signing up ahead.  More info on both.

Last year my friend and I used what likely was a trial version of the iPhone app to track a runner we were mutually, Big D, following as well as two other runners I knew, L and C.  Big D, the first to arrive, came as predicted by the app.  L and C were to arrive in the next 30 and 60 minutes respectively.  I started cheering and waving my signs when the app located them on the Bronx side of the bridge, just in case it was off by a few minutes.  Minutes went by.  I alternated between focused crowd scanning and light scanning while waving signs.  No L or C in sight, despite the app claiming they would supposedly come off the bridge at any moment.  We rechecked her phone multiple times, and eventually the app showed L and C way past our location.  I missed both L and C completely, likely from the software getting overloaded with users. So, hopefully all the bugs have been worked out this year.  BUT!  Scroll down to see a chart I made of expected times so that you hopefully don't need the app.

A few more recommendations based on my personal history of spectating and running:

• Pick your clothes as though its 20 degrees colder than actual.  You're standing around for potentially multiple hours, meaning not creating much heat.  If in the 50s I was usually happiest with thick wool socks, long sleeve shirt, wool sweater, down sweater, and a stocking cap to wear as needed.  If in the 40s I added wool long underwear.  Easier to take off layers than to add those you left at home.
• Bring a stadium seat, the Sunday paper, or a few layers of cardboard so that if you want to sit on the sidewalk or curb then you don't freeze your butt on the cold concrete.  
• Bring a thermos of hot tea/coffee/hot chocolate.  
• Think about how visible you are to the runner (signage, positioning), how easily you can spot your runner (knowing their shirt/hat colors), which direction the runner is headed (are you on the corner that they are turning away from, or are you on the far side just after the turn?), and whether or not you are back lit by the sun which would hinder their recognizing you.  I will post a picture of what I plan to wear as the day nears and the weather report becomes more accurate.
• The aforementioned Spectator Guide includes a few tips for those camping out for the morning/afternoon.  Of those meant for the sake of runners: "DON'T say 'You're almost there!' You should only use those longed-for words if you're holding the finish line tape."  Last August I told my family NOT to say "Three miles down, only 28 to go!" or "It's all downhill from here!"  My brother caught my Dad on video saying the downhill comment just as I started ascending Hospital Hill, and he was lucky I didn't hear him through my mumbling and huffing.

Lastly, a few things to note before interpreting the paced ETA chart...

• These are the actual times you might expect me at various mileage points.  It give a range of my faster days and my slower days, so that you know the window at which to hopefully expect me.  Use the phone app or the online thingie to see how the race starts out.  For the first 8 miles you'll get info from runners crossing timing mats every 5 kilometers.  At and after 8 miles, every mile will also have a timing mat.  The course map marks miles with squares, kilometers (in sets of 5) with pentagons. 
  
• I'm in Wave 1, which starts at 9:40 a.m., though I'm assuming that my corral will reach the start at 9:45 at the earliest.  It might be later.  
• Runners from previous years describe not running much for the first few miles.  That said, initial miles may be slower depending on how the start works out with the masses.   
• Notice on the map that the three sections of the start (blue, orange, green) take slightly different routes before converging a few miles into the race.  I am orange.  Nathan is blue.  On the long stretch of 4th Ave in Brooklyn, orange is on the west side of the street while blue and green are together on the right.  They all converge at mile 8 in downtown Brooklyn.
  
• I'm shooting to average 8:00 per mile, but I still recommend staking out your vantage point with time to spare before the 7:30 ETA.
• If I end up running most of the first 10 miles faster than 7:30 per mile pace, this is very very very bad.  Expect me to blow up half way through -- my average pace will progressively lengthen, and I'll end up with an 8:30 per mile (or likely even slower) pace by the end.  Also expect me to be in pain by the time I reach mile 20.  I'm hoping to avoid this as much as possible...
  
• What am I shooting for?  An average of 8:00 per mile.  I'd like to say I am capable of controlling my excitement to start out conservative so that I work my way into full race pace.  In reality, I'll be reminding myself constantly to slow to a good cruising speed.  Harder to do than it seems.  My reasoning?  If I manage to not blow up and I have a good race day, I'd land just under the cutoff to qualify for the 2013 Boston Marathon.  Heart isn't set on it, by any means.  Would just be cool if it worked out, and my Tune-Up 18 Mile race times indicate that its possible (*knock on wood*).  Ultimately the day will go however my knees and energy and stomach dictate.
  
• I WANT to stop for a hug and a high five from everyone.  But if things start to hurt, or if momentum becomes difficult, or if I've lost too much time from stopping earlier then I'll need to continue without pause.  If I feel like making the Boston cutoff is possible but I'm at risk for losing it, that will change how much I interact with friends posted along the latter half of the race.  If friends are posted at a dozen different locations along the way, I will be less inclined to keep stopping.  To stop and restart that much gets super hard after a few times.  
• Even if I barely see you, believe me -- it helps ENORMOUSLY.  Some days the mental race is harder than the physical race, which is where these brief encounters make all the difference.  If I have to keep moving and cannot stop, you'll probably be able to read it on my facial expression.  Give me a high five with your whole heart, cause I'll need it.